


Dean Thomas and the Moving Portrait

by NoctuaLusa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Artist Dean Thomas, Battle of Hogwarts, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Deamus, Drawing, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Gay Dean Thomas, Gay Seamus Finnigan, Kissing, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Themes, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Moving Portraits (Harry Potter), One Shot, POV Dean Thomas, POV Third Person, Past Dean Thomas/Ginny Weasley, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, squid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:15:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoctuaLusa/pseuds/NoctuaLusa
Summary: Dean had worked on making his drawings move for a long time. The first attempts had been miserable – staggering figures, moving like puppets with some cut strings. (He remembered one doodle of Seamus in particular that was just… weird.)But maybe, just maybe, it would be easier to draw Seamus with his best mate sitting right next to him.
Relationships: Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Comments: 12
Kudos: 120





	Dean Thomas and the Moving Portrait

It was still dusty in the rooms and corridors of the castle. The Battle of Hogwarts had been mere days ago and the survivors weren’t even close to getting rid of all the debris. They had buried the dead, though, right at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where one could sit in the shadows of the trees, looking over the grounds, listening to the birds up in the trees.

It was peaceful there and Dean found himself walking there whenever he found spare time. Right now, he sat near Lavender’s grave, his back against a tree, facing away from Hogwarts. It had been his home for six years, but right now, it did not feel like it at all. The things he had seen in that night…

With a shake of his head, Dean pulled himself out of these memories, willing himself to feel the bright sun on his face, the pencil in his fingers and the parchment on his lap. He could not allow himself to get lost in the past. He was afraid he might never resurface if he did.

The only way he knew to stay in the moment was to keep his hands busy and so he drew. A long tentacle, rising from the lake in front of him, looping, its many suckers glistening in the light of the afternoon.

“Whoah, that’s amazing!” a voice rang out right next to Dean.

He jumped and a sound escaped him, shrill like of a small, frightened creature.

“Sorry mate,” Seamus mumbled. “Didn’t want to scare you.”

Dean shook his head. “’s fine. Just didn’t hear you.”

Seamus smiled and ruffled his sandy hair. Dean had tried to draw that smile when he was at Shell Cottage. But something was always off. His drawings never made Dean smile like Seamus, the living Seamus, did.

“May I?” Seamus asked, flopping down to the ground when Dean nodded.

They sat there in silence for a moment. Once, they had done so for whole evenings, Dean drawing, Seamus reading about the Irish Quidditch team. It had felt calm and content… and safe. It did not feel safe anymore. Nothing did since he left his parents’ home the year before, running from the Snatchers.

“Learned how to make them move,” he said, his voice hoarse, to fill the silence. When he tapped the parchment with his wand, the tentacle started writhing, stretching towards the boys, waterdrop falling from the suckers.

“Whoah,” Seamus said once more. “Dean, this is awesome!”

Dean smiled. He had worked at this spell at Shell Cottage, too. The first attempts had been miserable – staggering figures, moving like puppets with some cut strings. (He remembered one doodle of Seamus in particular that was just… weird. Dean had thought about burning it but couldn’t bring himself to get rid of the closest thing to having his best mate with him. That parchment was still somewhere, he guessed.)

“I try to make them talk, too,” he said. “But that’s tough. You can’t _see_ their voice, so it’s hard to make it sound right.” 

“Show me,” Seamus demanded, excitement vibrating in his voice. “Draw me and make me say something.”

Dean made a face. He had not dared trying this on a portrait of Seamus yet. The wrong smile was bad enough. But then he nodded and set his pencil on a new sheet of parchment. Maybe, just maybe, it would be easier to draw Seamus with his best mate sitting right next to him. He scribbled the first few lines, a rough sketch of Seamus‘ proportions. But it was hard to get it right with Seamus fidgeting all the time, twitching at his shirt, scratching his chin.

“Mate, don’t move so much!” Dean grumbled finally. His long neck was bent over his parchment, only his eyes darted from the drawing to Seamus.

Seamus leaned back, getting still. The sun glinted on his hair, making it shimmer like gold. His eyes were wide open, watching Dean and them, too, looked like they were flecked with gold.

It was easier to look at people when you drew them, Dean thought. He never felt as comfortable looking at people just like that. But with the pencil in his hand, he had every reason to stare. It felt like earning the right to their faces.

The silence between them felt better now, too.

When his pencil copied Seamus’ lips, Dean felt like he finally understood what all his former doodles had missed. There was a slight curve to Seamus’ mouth, something like a half-smile waiting to happen, lighting up his whole face. And his lips were probably a bit plumper than he remembered. They looked soft.

Dean felt himself blushing, his ears getting warmer, so he ducked his head even deeper, scribbling away. Seamus’ shoulders were next, his upper arms and chest. Somehow it was easier now, not to look at his face. Dean wasn’t sure if he had felt this way around Seamus before. Okay, there had been some confusing dreams in earlier years, but he had been a teenager – he still was, actually. It was normal to be confused when you are 14, 15. He had started snogging Ginny Weasley to make the confusion go away. It hadn’t worked that well, to be honest.

They sat on the grass quietly until Dean was done with the portrait. Only the birds’ songs and the wind in the leaves above them disturbed the silence.

“Done,” Dean declared finally and turned the parchment.

“Doesn’t move yet,” Seamus observed.

Dean took a deep breath. “Might ruin it though,” he said.

“Nah, you won’t.” Seamus shook his head. “I saw what you did to the tentacle. Can’t be more difficult with my face, can it?”

Dean snorted. He, definitely, saw a lot of differences between Seamus and the Squid. “Fine,” he said nevertheless, and tapped the parchment.

The scribbled Seamus looked up at him, and his half-smile broke into a broad grin. Dean couldn’t help himself but grin back. It was this grin he had always wanted to capture. Now, the Seamus on the parchment winked and…

Dean couldn’t believe his eyes as Seamus, the scribbled Seamus, grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, exposing his naked chest.

“Oh,” he breathed. This was not what he had anticipated. Of course, he had seen his best friend without his shirt multiple times (and without pants, for that matter). But now, it was different. Now, it made his heartbeat stutter.

Dean’s gaze darted to the real Seamus whose eyes were glued to the drawing. His face was impossible to read.

The scribbled Seamus opened his smiling lips, mouthing two words. “Kiss me,” he said, over and over again. “Kiss me.”

The parchment fell from Dean’s hands. “Um… this… I… I don’t know how… This had never…” His ears felt like they were burning now.

The other boy still stared at his drawn face, still mouthing “Kiss me”.

“Is this what you see when you look at me?” Seamus asked, finally looking at Dean, his head cocked to one side. His voice was trembling a bit.

“I… um…” Dean felt like any coherent sentence had left his brain. “I’m so sorry, I…” He grabbed the parchment and wanted to scrunch it up into a ball, to throw it into the lake. But Seamus caught his fingers, holding them firmly.

“Don’t. It’s… great. I just… didn’t know that you can see it. I thought, I hid it better,” Seamus said.

Deans eyes shot up, meeting Seamus’. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the ability to speak had left him completely.

“May I kiss you?” Seamus asked quietly, his voice strangled.

And all Dean Thomas could do, was to nod.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! As English is not my first language, you may find some mistakes. I'm happy and thankful if you let me know in the comments.


End file.
